


Worlds Fall Apart

by SweetEmotion11



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Em sucks at tagging, F/M, I listened to a lot of sad and angsty music when I was writing this, Jenn leaves, Killer shoes are involved, Shit goes down, Tony cheats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetEmotion11/pseuds/SweetEmotion11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers are forced to choose sides when Tony betrays Jennifer<br/>(Also known as "Em gets sappy when she wants Jennifer to get more love in the fandoms" and "Jenn/Clint OTP 5evah" because I'm a mega dork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Don't Break Even

My cherry-red stilettos clacked quickly on the marble floor of the entranceway as I stalked past the reception desk and towards the main office. A startled receptionist blinked at me, told the person on the phone to “please hold,” and scrambled after me.

“Miss! Miss! You can’t go in there!” I ignored her, shoving the office door open with a loud grunt. The receptionist chased me. “Miss!”

I pushed forward, my anger fueling my brisk walk in Christian Louboutins.

Functionality – necessary in all things except fashion.

I thundered past Pepper wordlessly, my eyes narrowed to slits. She scrambled from her desk and joined the receptionist, who was doing a shocking job of keeping up with me.

“Ms. Walters?” she ventured, casting a glance over her shoulder at the receptionist that was clearly meant to say “You weren’t supposed to let her in!”

I snarled at her. “Where is he, Pepper?” I heard Pepper fall in quick step beside me.

“He’s not to be disturbed.” I jerked my head quickly to glare at her.

“Where. Is. He.” I seethed, never breaking my stride. In my peripheral vision, Pepper bit her lip.

Good. She was nervous. I liked making Pepper nervous.

“He’s…not to be disturbed,” she repeated, her voice a little smaller.

I knew then that my eyes were changing colors, thus the fear in her eyes. I ignored her and pushed through the main office door. The door fell open with a loud crash and Tony looked up, startled, from his blueprints.

“Jenn? Pep, I said I didn’t –“

“Want to be disturbed! She told me.” I snarled, storming up to him, slamming my hands on the desk. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I questioned.

“Perhaps this would be better taken care of at home?” Tony suggested quietly, nodding slightly to Pepper and the receptionist to call security. I glared at him.

“No. It wouldn’t. And why? Because you’re NEVER FUCKING HOME.” I bellowed. Tony barely winced.

Barely. But he winced.

“Jenn, please – “

“DON’T you dare “Jenn” me!” I shouted. “You know exactly why I’m here and no, Pepper,” I turned in her direction, “I will NOT keep my voice down!” Pepper shrank back a little as I took in another breath to yell at Tony. “How long?” I asked. Tony looked at me. “How. Long.” I repeated. Tony looked at me.

“Ms. Walters, if I could just interject – “ Pepper began. I held up my hand.

“Pep, I swear to God, you or the receptionist in the knock-off Jimmy Choos fucking speak again, I will drive my very real Lubbies RIGHT INTO YOUR FUCKING NECKS.” My voice rose a few octaves but my message came across loud and clear.

Pepper and the receptionist, who was babbling about her “real Jimmy Choos” and how I was insane to “suggest that they were knock-offs and so loudly too,” backed out of the office. I turned back to Tony.

“Just tell me how long.” I pleaded quietly, looking for any sign of denial in his eyes. His eyebrows moved a fraction of an inch towards each other and he almost looked pained, but he covered it quickly.

He sighed. “Three months.” I twisted on my heel and walked out.

“I’ll be gone by tomorrow morning.” A chair scraped along the floor as Tony scrambled to follow me out of the office.

“Jenn. Jenny! Jenn, come on!”

I kept walking.

“Dammit, Jenn, I’m sorry!” he called and I realized that he’d stopped at the office door.

I kept walking.

I hit the elevator button softly, all the rage I’d felt whooshing out of me as soon as Tony had admitted his infidelity. I climbed into the large elevator car, looking dignified, feeling utterly broken, a brittle smile on my face. The elevator doors swished closed and still I refused to break.

There were cameras, cameras he had access to, and I wouldn’t break in here.

I clacked my way across the lobby, nodding to the two security guards waiting at the desk to escort me out.

“No longer necessary, gentlemen, but if it will make you feel better…” I held out my arms passively as the guards flanked either side.

We walked out into the dirty New York sunlight. I grimaced at the guards, not smiling because I wasn’t capable, and set about hailing a cab back to my office. I thrust my arm out and a taxi screeched to a halt next to me.

“Walters, Gunn, and Dennis,” I commanded, tossing a $50 bill at the driver. Too much for the ride, but I didn’t care. We sped off.

I still didn’t break. Tony had spies everywhere and when they could not spy, he took it upon himself to follow those who needed extra attention.

I didn’t want to risk breaking here.

The cabbie slammed on the breaks, tossing me forward, ungracefully, into his headrest.

“Out,” the cabbie commanded. I rubbed my head and growled softly.

“Thanks for the concussion, keep the change.” I strode into the building where my office, the entire 34th floor, was located.

I will not break here. I must not break here.

I barely touched the elevator button before it arrived and whisked me up to my plush floor: overstuffed armchairs, nearly silent employees, discreet lawyers. I padded my way across the carpeted floor, nodding to my assistant, Dena, who grabbed a pad of paper, pen, and her tell-tale coffee mug.

I whirled into my office and quickly shut the door behind Dena. She sat quickly, pen at the ready, coffee mug at her feet. I sucked in a harsh pull of air before speaking.

“I have a meeting with Clint this afternoon, so I would like lunch from the Chipotle on 7th, not the Chipotle in Times; they charge twice as much and give you half of what you ask for when you order. I need several cans of Diet Coke; cans, not bottles, not glasses,” I took a deep breath before continuing, “I also need the name of the best divorce lawyer in the States and one in Europe.”

Dena’s head snapped up, her eyes searching mine before reluctantly going back down to her notepad again.

“Okay, regular Chipotle order from 7th, not Times, a 12-pack of Diet Coke…” Dena hesitated before finishing, “…and Gloria Allred…in divorce lawyer form.” Her eyes met mine. “Correct?”

I closed the sliding blinds on my windows, suddenly close to breaking. I nodded, not trusting my voice, and waved a hand at her. Dena packed up quickly and left, closing my heavy oak door behind her.

I immediately crumpled to the floor, not caring that I was wrinkling my professionally-cleaned $500 suit or smearing my $70 mascara with the back of my hand. I couldn’t stop staring at my engagement ring, at my wedding ring, at my 5-year anniversary ring.

I curled up on the carpet, hoping that Clint didn’t come in early for our meeting, and sobbed.

I should have changed. At least then I wouldn’t feel anything but rage.


	2. Fire Your Guns, It's Time To Run

“Yes, tomorrow. Thank you. Mmhmm, I’ll bring the paperwork,”  
I shuffled a few loose papers on my desk, making them into a neat, OCD-littered pile. I balanced my work Blackberry between my right ear and shoulder, ignoring the vibrating iPhone in my top desk drawer. I scribbled little notes furiously on the paperwork, yanking Post-Its out of my little holder and slamming them onto the proper spots.  
A sharp, sudden knock on my door startled me and I almost dropped my phone. Allison asked if I was all right, hearing the quick flit of fabric on the microphone.  
“I’m fine,” I assured her, motioning Dena inside my office. She opened the door with her knee, ungracefully, and brought in my afternoon Skinny Caramel Macchiato. I looked back down at my paperwork and heard the rustle of cellophane follow Dena through my door. Dena gasped and cried out,  
“Sir! No!”  
My eyes snapped on an extremely large bouquet of flowers, roses and calla lilies, before trailing to the charcoal grey suit standing behind them. I forced my eyes upward to the contrite, goateed face nearly hidden by his trademark silver sunglasses.  
Tony.  
I looked back down at my paperwork.  
“Alli, I’ll have to call you back, okay? Yeah. Dena will fax you the paperwork. Buh-bye.” I clicked the Blackberry off and stared at Dena. “D, this divorce paperwork, my passport, driver’s license, and bank statements must all be faxed over to Allison Daniels now. Thank you.”  
Dena took the papers, collecting them in small, neat piles before quietly scooting out the door. I looked up at Tony, who was still holding the flowers, and sighed.  
“I have to go,” I said, yanking my gym bag off the floor and striding out of the office in a $500 suit and $20 sneakers.  
My Lubbies were firmed locked in the bottom drawer of my desk. I trusted Dena with everything but shoes.  
The cellophane around the bouquet rustled loudly as Tony followed me out of my office and down the hall.  
“Jen, wait. Please,” he called, his footfalls coming closer.  
I ignored him and dug into my cheap Nike drawstring bag for my iPhone, set to Airplane Mode to avoid any unwanted conversations, and earbuds. I squished the soft foam between my fingers and inserted the buds in my ears, blocking out the office phones, the chatter, the nonsense, Tony. I clicked the small plastic bar hanging on my right headphone and Keith Urban poured his sweet Australian voice right where I needed it.  
I pounded my way towards the women’s room, knowing that Tony might follow me and deciding that I didn’t care. The women’s room had a stairwell to the first floor gym and while I didn’t relish running down over 30 flights of stairs, this pre-workout would get rid of my soon-to-be ex-husband and some stress, so I chose it. I flew into the restroom, tossing the door against the wall and yanking my suit jacket off before the door to the handicapped stall (hello, I’m changing; I need the room) fully closed.  
Keith crooned about waiting for me “’til summer comes around” and I reveled in his sultry pleas as I slipped on my baggy T-shirt and Soffe (don’t judge, they weren’t cheerleader-short) bottoms. I slicked my hair back into a high ponytail before stuffing my suit into the drawstring bag and slipping out the stall door towards the emergency exit.  
Tony stood at the sink, the flowers hanging down in his right hand. His muffled voice somehow made it through my headphones, but I ignored him and shoved open the emergency door. I felt a hard yank on my right ear and my earphone popped out.  
“Hey!” I yelped, scrambling for the falling earbud. I glared at Tony, who glared right back at me.  
“Do not ignore me,” he seethed, holding on to my right headphone. “You don’t answer your iPhone, your Blackberry, your emails.” I sneered at him and narrowed my eyes.  
“Yes, well, talking to cheating husbands isn’t high on my to-do list. Keeping my body in shape, however, is, so if you’ll excuse me…” I trailed off, pulling my earbud from his grasp. I stalked down the stairs, pushing the headphone back into my ear, knowing full well that Tony was right behind me.  
His voice warbled through the soft foam still conforming to my inner ear canal and I caught a few words; “divorce,” “stupid,” “mistake,” “listen,” “sorry.”  
I ignored him and kept lightly jogging down the stairs to the gym.  
I pushed the cool glass door and entered into the posh, clean, frigid basement gym. Carolina, the receptionist, smiled at me before asking for my badge. I flashed it at her, fully aware that her gaze was now going to the winded billionaire behind me.  
She pointed and mouthed “Ms. Walters?” I nodded briskly and rolled my eyes.  
“Men.” I mouthed back to her, taking the clean towel she offered and heading towards my favorite elliptical.  
A loud crash sounded behind me and I yelped before turning. Tony had burst through the glass door, or rather he’d sent a lovely repulsor ray right through the glass. I gaped at him, as did most of the gym, and snapped at Carolina to call security. Tony’s hand lost its glow slowly as he lowered it back to his side.  
“Really, Tony? You brought the gauntlet with you?” I scoffed, pulling out my earphones. Tony shrugged slightly but maintained his stony stare.  
“I need to be prepared for anything,” he said simply. I rolled my eyes.  
“And the glass door? Did it suddenly become a dangerous enemy?”  
“No. But it’s holding my wife hostage from me, so it had to go.”  
I took a deep breath. “The only thing holding me hostage is my marriage to you. Please leave me alone.”  
Tony stared at me.  
“You’re serious about this? About leaving me?”  
I glared.  
“Why not? You were serious about cheating on me.”  
Tony slammed a hand on the counter, causing Carolina to jump.  
I was used to his outbursts to my sass, so I stayed motionless.  
“Goddammit, Jenn –” I held up my hand.  
“Tony, please. I’m tired. I had court today and I had to basically send the entirety of last ten years of my personal life to a woman I’ve met once on Skype five minutes ago. In the past week, I’ve learned that my entire marriage is a sham and that my beloved husband is cheating on me.” I kept my eyes on his. “Not to mention that said husband has fathered an illegitimate child with his mistress.”  
Tony’s face paled and the hand holding the flowers fell a bit. I nodded, blinking away the emotional reaction I knew was welling up.  
“Yeah. That was my reaction, too…along with a few choice words and a broken vase. So, if you’ll excuse me,” I gestured to the gym, “I’d like to get back to some semblance of a normal life for me, okay? Can you do that for me, Tony? Please? Just leave me alone for a little bit,” my voice broke, “because honestly, I cannot stand you right now. I can’t. So, please, please go away.”  
A tissue brushed my bare arm and I sniffled as I took it.  
Tony swallowed hard and nodded twice.  
“Okay. Okay, Jennifer. I’ll…I’ll leave you alone.”  
I took a deep breath and nodded slowly.  
“Thank you.” I turned back towards the cool gym, tossing my used tissue in the small waste bin near the entrance.  
I heard a rustle of plastic as Tony tossed the flowers into the trash, his soft-spoken voice reassuring Carolina that he would have the door replaced that evening, the barest whoosh as the door slid shut behind him.  
I unloaded my water bottle and heart monitor, placing them on the elliptical as I climbed on, my hands gripping the handles. I slowly started to pump my legs, gaining speed as I pressed the crossramp and resistance buttons up, making the workout harder.  
I pressed Ali’s number into my phone, panting already.  
“Al, it’s Jenn. Listen, Tony just visited me and I told him I knew about the kid. I don’t think he was expecting that, so he’ll try to hit back as soon as possible. He did, however, cause a scene in my gym, in the basement of work, so we’ve got witnesses to destruction and unpredictability,” I took a deep breath and a quick sip of water, “I think he may try to depose Clint and Tasha. We need to get them first, okay? Okay. Call me back – I’ll be the one gasping for air at the gym.”  
She-Hulk wouldn’t be the only one who bulking up her defenses…


	3. If That's Movin' Up, Then I'm Movin' Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer moves out...

“Password?”

“It’s me, JARVIS,” I call, setting my purse on the floor to press my hand to the scanner.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Stark.”  
Ouch. That hurt.

“’Jennifer’ or ‘Ms. Walters’ will be fine from now on, J.”

“As you wish, ma’am.” JARVIS beeps and the front door opens. Cool air splashes across my face – Tony always kept the house cool – he claimed he didn’t want his precious electronics to overheat, but I’m pretty sure he just didn’t want She-Hulk to overheat.  
I stride into the foyer, snatching up my mail with my free hand. I glance over the remaining mail slots, eyeing Clint’s.

“Hey, J?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Has Agent Barton been in lately?”

“He came back to the mansion last night with Agent Romanov, ma’am. Shall I page him for you?”  
I shake my head, then remember that JARVIS can’t see me, and clear my throat.

“No, thank you.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

I walk slowly upstairs, looking around and mentally cataloguing what I want to take with me, what I want to leave, and notice a light water ring on the coffee table.

“Hey, J?” I call, eyes on the stain.

“Yes, Ms. Walters?”

“Does anyone besides members of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers have access to the mansion?”

JARVIS stays silent.

“JARVIS.”

“I…should not answer that, ma’am.”

“Did Tony program you not to answer that question?”

“Yes, ma’am.”  
I nod.

“I see. Okay, let’s try another way. Do civilians have access to this mansion?”

“Yes.”

“Female civilians?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Total or by date?”

“In the past three months.”

“Four.”

A deep shudder of disbelief and sadness shakes me. I inhale sharply and briskly walk upstairs.

“Thank you.”

“I am very sorry, ma’am.”

I sneak into my bedroom and slam the heavy oak hard.

“Yeah…me too, J,” I say quietly before sinking against the door.

 

It’s amazing how fast one can pack when helped by robots. 

Within five hours, ten years of memories are stowed into 12 blue Rubbermaid tubs, neatly organized by DUM-E (who is actually good for Tetris-like packing; Tony’s just been using him wrong), which are now being loaded by a super soldier and a man with breath-taking anger management issues into a large U-Haul.

I watch as Steve and Bruce do the grunt work and I’m overcome with a wave of remembrance.

 

Arms slide around me and a pair of lips press to my neck as I watch Avengers and movers lug all my UCLA and New York things into Tony’s huge mansion. I sigh happily and tug my husband’s arms around me tighter.

“So, they’re unpacking and setting up the bed first, right?” Tony growls into my ear. I laugh and swat him.

“Is that all you think about?” I ask incredulously. Tony kisses my neck again and grins.

“Who wouldn’t when married to you?”

I roll my eyes and elbow his ribs.

“Hey, newlyweds! You gonna stand there or help?” Clint, carrying a floor lamp, calls. I laugh.

“Tony’s buying you pizza and beer! Keep unloading!” I yell back. My Hawk rolls eyes and grabs another lamp.

“Lousy pizza and cheap beer, oh what a feast,” he murmurs as he sidles by us.

“We could always just put out some birdseed,” Tony yells as Clint disappears into the mansion.

“Shut up or I’ll replace your scotch with oil, Tin Man!” Clint hollers back.

 

I shake my head and I’m back to watching Steve and Bruce huff and puff as they load my sofa.

Okay…watching Bruce huff and puff…Steve has barely broken a sweat.

“You’re very, very good friends!” I call to them. Steve turns and salutes, Captain and gentleman through and through, while Bruce just pushes up his glasses and shoots me a small smile.

“That’s the last of it, cous. You ready?” Bruce says, taking off his glasses and smudging them along his shirt. I nod.

“To Brooklyn we go,” I say softly, turning back to lock my door for the last time.

Well…to let JARVIS lock it and revoke my mansion key.

I straighten my back as Steve and Bruce clamber into the cab of the U-Haul.

“JARVIS.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m leaving.”

JARVIS hesitates. “Ma’am, are you sure you want to –”

“Yes. Do it.”  
I swear, if J could sigh, he would.

“Beginning final scan.” A small beeping noise surrounds me and I shut my eyes as JARVIS scans me for the last time.

“Scan complete. Ms. Walters, you are being removed from the system. I have one final message from Mr. Stark, would you like me to bring it up on the video screen?”

I open my eyes and take a deep breath.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“As you wish, ma’am.”

Tony’s face zips into the video frame, his mouth in a grim smile, fingers steepled in front of him.

“Jen,” he breathes warmly, disappointment flowing through his voice, “so, you’re really leaving. Packing up. Turning in the key, huh?”

I nod, though I know he can’t see me. Virtual Tony continues, oblivious.

“Well, I wish we could have worked it out, but since you decided to handle it like this, I’d like to give you this friendly goodbye.”

Tony leans into the camera and pulls his brows together.

“If you even think that this is going to be quick, easy, painless, and civil; if you think you’re getting a penny, you think again. I will fight you, Jennifer. I will fight you with every fiber and dollar I have. You don’t get Tony this time,” Tony sits back and crosses his arms, “you get Iron Man.”

The screen goes dark and I stare a little longer, the image of an infuriated Tony burning behind my eyes.

“Thank you for visiting today, Ms. Walters. Please let the Stark estate know if you require any further assistance,” JARVIS chirps, all familiarity gone.

I really am done here.

I swing my purse over my shoulder, signal Steve to start driving, and unlock my silver Audi R8 in one fluid motion. I press the Start button and let the air conditioning flow over me, cooling my heated skin. I close my eyes as my passenger door opens and someone slips in.

“Seriously, Clint, would it kill you to make a ‘caw-caw’ or something?” I say without opening my eyes.

“How’d you know it was me, babe?” Clint asks in his husky voice, clicking his seatbelt into place.

“My entire life for the past ten years has collapsed in on me and you’ve been here every day since I found out,” I answer sharply. “Also, no one else would dare be around me right now, especially not in an enclosed space. Also…your cologne is very distinctive.”

I open my eyes and look at him. Clint shrugs before laying his hand on top of mine.

“The last thing you need is to be alone.” I give him a weak smile. “You okay to drive to Brooklyn?” I nod.

“Steve practically whooped for joy when I chose to live there.” Clint chuckles and squeezes my hand.

“He loves whenever anyone chooses his old stomping grounds over Manhattan.” I shift into Drive and pull out slowly, not looking back once we’re on our way towards my new apartment.

“I’d choose Hell over Manhattan right now,” I murmur. Clint nods in my peripheral vision, his sunglasses glinting.

“It’ll be okay.” I nod briskly and push the gas pedal a little harder.

“Yeah. It’ll be peachy keen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler chapter...it's two I had combined and TA-DA...so yeah...


	4. Movin' Night's All Right For Fightin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenn moves to Brooklyn...and all hell breaks loose.

I have to admit: I took a page from a high-profile divorce when I served Tony with the subpoena.

I had the public employee pose as one of Tony’s new R & D a.k.a. ‘Candyland’ grunts. Brad (hopefully not his real name…) played it out beautifully, casually asking Tony if his calculations were correct and handing him the papers when Tony held out a hand for the graph paper.

Brad was ‘fired’ about thirty seconds later.

Allison was impressed with my ‘Kardashian’ tactics.

“Actually, it was Kris Humphries who tried to serve Kanye West with a Nordstrom box, but there WAS a Kardashian involved…” I gave a slight smile as Alli laughed.

“Whatever,” she said, waving her hand. “It was a great idea.”

 

Brooklyn.

An apartment large enough for She-Hulk and her short-comings…a vast improvement over my UCLA dorms.

Not as big as my suite in the Mansion but I wasn’t going to dwell on that.

Steve, Clint, and Bruce help me unload, unpack, and organize everything I had taken from Tony’s. Natasha and Thor show up about an hour in with pizza and a frat boy’s wet dream worth of beer, Thor apologizing for missing most of the heavy lifting.

He actually looks sad.

I laugh and hug them both, wondering what price their paying for choosing me over Tony at this moment.

We scarf the pizzas (the finally tally: Thor – 3, Bruce – 2, the remaining 7 split between the rest), guzzle too much beer, and laugh too hard far too late into the evening.

Nat and Bruce leave early the next morning, supporting an extremely intoxicated Thor between them, no easy feat, throwing back weak waves as they try to push Thor into Bruce’s pickup.

Clint helps me clean up as Steve, the All-American boy through and through, takes out the trash.

I wash the plates slowly, taking the time to scrub the cheap cheese off. I plunge my hands into the scalding, soapy water over and over, pressing the wet washcloth so hard against the plate, I snapped one of them in half.

“Oh, damn!” I yelp, the thin pieces slicing into the water. 

“Whoa,” says Clint, yanking my hands out of the sink and examining them. “No cuts?”

I shake my head. Clint swishes the bubbles from the top of the sink, looking for a clear spot. He studies the swirling water for a second then allows three quick, splashless grabs, drudging up the three sharp pieces of plate. He tosses it behind him into the garbage.

“You sure you’re okay?” I nod, looking at my hands. Clint flips them over, exposing my palms, gently massaging the heat out, his eyes on my face, scrutinizing. “You,” he says softly, still caressing, “not your hands.”

I stare up at him, suddenly aware of how close he is standing and what he’s asking me.

“Oh,” I clear my throat and busy myself with drying the remainder of the plates. “I’m fine, I’m full, I’m happy, I’m fine.”

Clint folds his arms and stares me down. 

I kept wiping the dishes. “Stop giving me that damn bird stare,” I snap. “I’m fine. If I wasn’t, you’d know.”

Clint continues to stare me down.

I sigh. “Stubborn vulture.”

Clint smirks as I wipe down the last plate. The screen door slams and Steve walks into the kitchen, his face concerned. I glance at him.

“What?”

Steve sighs and Clint straightens.

“What?” I repeat as Clint shakes his head briefly. My eyes widen as it hits me. “Tony’s here.”

“Yes. I am,” a gruff voice sounds from behind me.

 

S.H.I.E.L.D. Incident #494 – June

Involving: A. Stark; J. Walters-Stark; Captain S. Rogers; Agent C. Barton

Details: Domestic argument led to streetfight involving Stark and Barton. Rogers stepped in. Walters-Stark was witness.

Follow-Up: Stark – suspended; Barton – paid leave; Rogers – active; Walters-Stark - active

 

Tony was drunk.

Severely drunk.

Obscenely drunk.

Crippling drunk.

He was babbling about the apartment; criticizing my choice of Brooklyn (I could feel Steve tense behind me when Tony threw out his negative barbs), the fact that I’d chosen to move out, chuckling at my ‘sudden independence.’ He attacked everything, gesturing wildly, chucking drunken insults.

“Hey, Tony, why don’t you go home?” Steve said quietly, stepping towards Tony, trying to steer him towards the waiting town car, signaling for Happy to get out and help. Tony wrenched his arm away, scoffing.

“Yeah, no. I think I’ll talk to my wife,” Tony spewed the last word and shot a homicidal look in my direction.

Clint put himself in front of me, enough to stop Tony if he did anything but still allowing me to see and speak to Tony.

I rolled my eyes and pushed past Clint as I spoke.

“You have no wife,” I snarled. “You gave her up months ago when you started fucking that whore,” I spat at Tony. Tony’s eyes lit and he took a few drunken steps towards me.

“She wasn’t a fucking whore!” Tony yelled, causing me to jump. “She is the mother of my child and –”

“Tony. You need to go,” Clint ground out, slinging an arm around me, pulling me close.

Tony scoffed as he walked towards Clint. “Yeah, that’s right; protect her. Shelter her. After all, she did nothing wrong, right?” Tony’s eyes glazed over me patronizingly. “She did nothing wrong. She didn’t drive me to this. She never refused sex or worked late or fought with me or –”

Clint released me and connected his fist with Tony’s jaw. Tony stumbled back a little, bringing his palm up to smear the blood from his lip. He grinned and eyed Clint.

“So, I hit a nerve, huh, Clint?”

Clint rolled his shoulders and neck quickly, gearing up for a counter-attack, which Tony gave.

Tony lunged at Clint, hands out, ready to tackle him to the ground. Clint easily threw him off and Tony stumbled into the brick wall of my apartment complex. Tony roared angrily and charged Clint again. I tried to move, but Steve pushed me back. Tony hit Clint in the gut and they both went down hard on the concrete. I shoved Steve away and ran to tug Tony off Clint. Tony had reared back, his elbow poised, and he didn’t know I was behind him.

At least…that’s what I told myself later.

 

Dena left my morning macchiato and two Advils by my keyboard the next morning.

I didn’t relish going into the office sporting my cut lip…but I also didn’t want to go into HQ and get questioned as to how my lip was split when I was listed as a ‘witness’ on the memo.

Either way…I had to keep going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have 7 more chapters planned...I just need to ACTUALLY. WRITE. THEM.


	5. Let's Get Drunk, No, Let's Get Plastered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenn gets some visitors...

I curled up on my couch, clutching a throw pillow to me as I clicked through my DVR, settling on the trials and travesties of the Real Housewives of New Jersey, legitimately curious as to who would be having the meltdown this week.

Teresa. It's always Teresa.

I sipped a flat can of Coke, ignoring the nagging feeling that I should put whiskey into it and slip serenely into a blissful, thoughtless coma of drunkenness.

Because that would mean that Tony and I still had something in common.

I popped some Pringles into my mouth, pulling my knees and the cans to my chest, scooting low into the cushions, the Real Housewives slipping in and out of my vision. I had just curled up into a soft ball, head on the couch arm, body taking up no more than one whole cushion, when a light tap at my patio door startled me. I straightened immediately, pressing my palms against my eyes to clear them, ignoring the pain shooting behind them, and looked at the porch. A shy smile came out of the Brooklyn darkness.

Steve.

I leapt over the couch arm and bounded over to the door, sliding the lock back and shoving the door open. Steve stepped in and tugged me close. I clutched him.

"How are you doing? Healed, of course?" I whispered against his chest. Steve chuckled and squeezed me tighter.

"Of course. I wasn't the one who took a gauntlet fist to the chin."

"That'd be me," a gruff voice said from the sliding door. My eyes flew open and took in Clint's deeply bruised face. Steve released me and I ran into Clint's arms.

"Oh God, look what he did to you," I breathed, pressing my lips to his battered cheek. Clint winced lightly, but relaxed against me.

"Me?" Clint chuckled, pulling back to stroke my cheek and look into my eyes. "Look what he did to my girl." I closed my eyes from the sharp pain that danced across my black eye and sucked in a harsh gasp.

"I'm fine. I heal slower than certain people, but it's still faster than most." Clint kept looking at me and caressing my cheek, leaning in a bit, just as Steve clinked a few glasses together.

"Anyone want a drink?"

\----------------

I slammed my tumbler onto my Formica table and drunkenly commanded, "Another."

Steve chuckled. "Okay, Thor," he murmured, pouring more Jack into my glass. I giggled, swirling the amber liquor before draining it quickly.

"Another. And explain to me how the hell I can be drunker than you," I dribbled, hiccuping. Steve smiled, splashing whiskey again into the crystal.

"The serum, uh, doesn't allow for alcohol to stay in my system. I assume, " he cantered, swilling some more liquor, "it's the same for Bruce?"

I nodded. "More so, actually. When we were younger, we would sneak various drinks from various relatives liquor cabinets, getting hilariously drunk." I took a glug of my drink, gesturing gently with my hand, "and Bruce would be the worst! I mean, I was bad, stumbling and giggling -"

"Like now?" Clint countered softly, his hand dangerously close to mine. I whirled on him and swatted his bicep.

"Ass. Yes, like now. Bruce would be…insane, he couldn't keep our secret to save his life. I was at least a klutz soberly, but Bruce…hysterical. We were caught every time."

I looked off, past Steve, who had set his glass on the breakfast nook table and was staring intently at me.

"After his…experiment…" I continued, braving myself with another quick suck of whiskey, "he and I got together, just to see if he was able to still be my Bruce…hysterical, loud, drunk…" I met eyes with Steve, "because we'd heard legends about super soldiers who couldn't drink, so we drank…and we drank…and I passed out, but Bruce didn't." Tears suddenly streamed down my face and I pushed my hand over them, slowing their intrusion. "He wanted so desperately to prove that he was still Bruce, that he was still normal…" My voice broke, "and he couldn't."

Steve reached over and patted my hand. "Jenn…" I waved him off, furiously wiping my face.

"No, no, I'm just drunk, I'm just being - ow!" I cried out, accidentally scrubbing over my bruised eye, forcing a deep, pulsing pain back through. Clint was up and at the freezer before I took my hand off my face, switching my palm with a cool towel filled with ice chips.

"Easy, now, lightweight…how about you tell us why YOU can get drunk while we numb this up, huh?" I nodded, looking at Clint through my good eye.

"Blood transfusion. Essentially secondhand serum exposure - no direct rays or anything. It's kind of like those secondhand smoke cancer victims, you know." Steve and Clint nodded. 

We sat in silence, the ice melting in our glasses tinkling lightly

"So, how are you…really?" Steve murmured. I shrugged, toying with the rim of my whiskey tumbler.

"Numb, actually."

"Numb?" I nodded.

"Yeah. When John died, I felt this horrific pain, like my heart was being shredded slowly, cripplingly. I would go to bed drunk or sedated and wake up screaming. It was awful…but this?" I gestured to my chest. "It's numb. Everywhere is numb. It's like Tony just took everything: my fight, my drive, my anger, my acceptance, my love. There's nothing."

"Wish I could feel nothing," Clint said into his glass, gulping the remainder of his Jack. Steve ignored him.

"But John was sudden, quick, it was wartime," he noted softly, taking a small sip.

"And because this is happening in New York and not during a civil war in a remote Asian country…that means it should be better?" Steve gave me a grim smile.

"I'm not helping, am I?"

"I just want to feel something. You know that when Tony hit me, that was the first time I've felt anything in a month? Since I found out about him and his mistress…es?" Steve winced.

"I don't like that that word is plural…" I snorted.

"Join the club; we'll make shirts: Tony Stark is a huge d-bag."

I slumped into my chair, suddenly tired. "Guys, I love you and all but…" Steve stood.

"Yeah, it is getting too late. Let's make sure you're okay and then we'll all hit the hay."

I raised my eyebrow. "Oh, for sure Sharon will like that…" Steve frowned at me.

"Clint and I will get you to bed, alone, and then we'll go crash on your couches, alone," Steve said, helping me up and eyeing Clint.

I nodded again, the alcohol and emotions draining me. "Bed. Bed is good." Steve guided me to my bedroom and laid out a UCLA tee and a pair of shorts.

"In," he said sternly, pointing to the pajamas. I gaped at him.

"Um…about that…I might need some help."

Steve blushed and stuttered something before Clint shoved him out of the way.

"Outta the way, Captain Charming, that's my area." He looked back at Steve. "Unless you think Sharon would be cool with you undressing and dressing another woman."

Steve coughed and bowed out politely, shutting my bedroom door sharply. Clint turned.

"Arms up," he commanded. I raised an eyebrow at him. Clint sighed. "Let it go, Rock; I'm just trying to help." I folded my arms across my chest. Clint narrowed his gaze. "Arms. Up."

"You'll tickle me," I blurted out then slapped my hand over my mouth. Clint laughed and pushed my arms up.

"Paranoid woman," he whispered, tugging off my blouse. "Now do you want to do the bra after I slip the shirt on or…" I nodded.

"After. Less embarrassing that way." Clint slid the shirt over my head and tugged it down my body, palms skimming my hips. I reached back and unsnapped my bra, my eyes never leaving Clint's, sliding my arms in and out of it in record time, discarding it to the floor. "Skirt?" I breathed, my hands reaching for the zipper in the back. Clint stiffened.

"Let me." I turned. Clint's fingers skated across my back, inching my zipper down, tooth by tooth. The skirt fell to the floor, puddling around me. The tee shirt slipped lower, covering where the skirt had been. I kicked the skirt away from me.

"Thanks," I murmured softly, twisting to face Clint. He swallowed before nodding. "Mind helping me into bed?" I questioned gently. Clint nodded again, licking his lips. He boosted me into my tall king-size TempurPedic (perfect for She-Hulk and since I work for the Avengers, too, I get to write it off as a business expense) and averted his eyes as I shimmied down under the covers. Clint yanked the covers up and made sure I was snug in bed before turning away.

"Wait," I cried. Clint turned back. "Good night kiss?" I ventured, blushing a little. Clint groaned.

"You're killing me." I bit my lip and squirmed deeper under the covers.

"Sorry. I'll just…go to sleep." Clint strode over to my bed and leaned down to kiss my forehead. I arched up as he bent and brushed his nose with mine. He froze.

"Jenn, please," he whispered.

"We're just drunk, right?" I said softly. Clint shut his eyes and nodded.

"Drunk. Yeah." He moved closer, breath heavy on my lips.

"Clint…"

"Jenn…

"You're not drunk." Clint smiled, caressing my face.

"No, sweetheart…I'm not," he breathed. Clint shifted his weight onto the bed, pressing his body to mine. I arched my body up, leaning into him. A knock on my door surprised us both.

"Jenn, you decent? I need your help out here." Steve called through the door.

"Huh?" I blinked, shaking my head. Clint had moved to the other side of the room.

"There's a spider." Clint rolled his eyes.

"For the love of God, Steve. You're an all-American boy, you can't handle a little -" Clint opened the door to a voluminous head of fiery hair. "Nat."

Natasha pushed her way into my room, thrusting a paper in my hands.

"Tony just subpoenaed me."


	6. Swearing To Tell The Truth, The Whole Truth, And Nothing But The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Court fun time with Jenn and Tony...
> 
> Jenn finds out a horrifying secret

Deposition Tape - Stark v. Walters, tape #7: Romanoff  
"Have you ever had a sexual relationship with Anthony Stark?"  
"Define sexual."  
"Having or pertaining to sexual relations including but not limited to: oral pleasure, vaginal pleasure, penile pleasure, vaginal intercourse, anal intercourse, oral intercourse, etc."  
"Define relationship."  
"Having or pertaining to acquaintanceship or beyond. In this case, we mean a relationship beyond your Avengers' gatherings."  
"(snort heard on tape)"  
"Is there something funny about this, Ms. Romanoff?"  
"No. Well. Yes."  
"Care to clarify?"  
"You say 'gatherings' like we bring fucking picnic baskets and hold block parties instead of saving the world."  
"How would you classify what happens when the Avengers get together?"  
"Saving. The. World."  
"…right.Could you please answer the original question?"  
"No. Despite many offerings, suggestions, and handsy moments with Stark, I have never and will never have a sexual relationship with him."  
"Handsy? Could you define that for the record?"  
"He puts his hands on my body sometimes. Mainly my ass. Mainly when I was undercover."  
"Would you say that Mr. Stark gets 'handsy' often?"  
"Nice use of air quotes, dude. Hell yeah. He does it all the time."  
"Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. I think we have enough. You're free to go."

The tape clicked off and Allison grinned at me.

"That was perfection." I shrugged.

"That was Nat; clean, easy, to the point, never one to back down."

"Well, she did beautifully. We have it on the record that Stark is lecherous and has been preying on his coworker/co-Avengers for years!" I waved my hand.

"Preying is a strong word, Al. You've seen him - he's pretty charming." This time, Allison shrugged.

"He's hot, but he's full of himself, sarcastic, annoying, and deeply narcissistic. Not sure how anyone would EVER love-" Al stopped herself just in time and glanced at me, blushing lightly.

"Sorry." I waved my hand again.

"I understand." Allison clears her throat.

"Well, this shoots an enormous hole in his argument that you pushed him away. This will help with the 'wounded widow looking for love, comfort, and safety but being taken advantage of by a billionaire playboy' side." I shifted uncomfortably, like I was in trouble.

"Allison, I know I've mentioned this before, but I really don't want to use John's death as-" Allison shooed me with her hand.

"I know you don't, but honey, that's what happened. Tony's been after you for a long time and when you were still grieving, he pounced." I frowned.

"Still…" Allison held up a hand again.

"I do have some good news. Tony's lawyers have agreed to meet with us tomorrow. We might get the plea deal done now, thanks to Natasha." I took a deep breath and force it out through my teeth.

"And how will we know if it goes well?"

"We won't have to use Clint or Steve's depositions to win this case."

\----------------------

"We have reviewed the tape from Ms. Romanoff's deposition and would like to posit a few offers for Ms. Walters." Allison nodded.

"We will hear them, but this does not mean that we are accepting anything." Tony's lawyers nodded. He stayed completely still, eyes shrouded behind his trademark silver sunglasses.

I mean, we were in an office building in downtown New York City at 2 in the afternoon with a summer thunderstorm raging outside, but hey. He was probably hungover.

"We can give Ms. Walters $10 billion over the course of her lifetime: $21,000 a month for the next 40 or so years." Allison shook her head.

"Next." Tony's lawyers slid their eyes over some papers and then the head lawyer cleared his throat.

"We can give Ms. Walters $5 billion now and allow the next $5 billion to be deposited to her in monthly $10,500 increments starting in 5 years, with stipulations." Allison glanced at me. I cocked an eyebrow.

"Third option?"

"We can give Ms. Walters the $10 billion now." Allison's eyes perked up and she immediately straightened.

"What's the catch on that one?" The head lawyer smirked.

"There are stipulations, similar to the previous offers."

"State them." I commanded, eyes on Head Lawyer. He shuffled some folders and began to read.

"Offer #2: $5 billion now, $5 billion deposited 5 years from now: stipulations. There are four. 1. Ms. Walters may not ask for any further compensation from Stark Industries. This includes but is not limited to any and all charity functions, balls, art openings, etc. 2. Ms. Walters must surrender any and all items purchased by Mr. Stark before and during their marriage. 3. Ms. Walters forfeits any and all rights to previous homes, property, and vehicles owned during the marriage. 4. Ms. Walters forfeits any and all rights to use of non-Avengers mission Stark property."

Allison looked at me. I nodded once.

"Those are fair, but are still not fully agreed. Stipulations for full and immediate monetary compensation?"

"Offer #3: $10 billion immediately. All the previous stipulations with the addition of three more: 1. Ms. Walters forfeits her friendships and alliances made during the marriage - this includes any and all Avengers, work associates, etc."

"No," I whispered.

"#2. Ms. Walters forfeits any and all rights and properties to She-Hulk and retires the character immediately."

"Oh my God," Allison gasped.

"#3. Ms. Walters is not allowed to date in any capacity, including but not limited to: hand holding, coffee dates, kissing, sexual intercourse of any kind, romantic socializing, flirting, going out for dinner or drinks with," the Head Lawyer looked up smugly, "and more outlined far more graphically here in this document for you to read at your leisure."

"Ever?" I burst out.

"For," the Head Lawyer looked down, "the next 5 years. If you are seen breaking this agreement, your $10 billion will be revoked and you will be sued." I gaped at him.

"We're going to need a moment," Allison said softly.

\----------------------

"I think we should take it." I said softly, chewing tiny bites of my Panera turkey sandwich. Allison choked and coughed.

"Are you insane?" I shrugged, taking another bite.

"Maybe. But I really just want this to be over. Tony looks so sad…"

Allison gave me an incredulous look. "Okay, let's recap - your husband cheated on you, is having an illegitimate love child with one of his mistresses, yes that's plural, and just offered you an offer WAY under what we originally proposed WITH the stipulation that you not date or get laid in anyway except by using something from Adam and Eve ALONE for the next five YEARS. And you just want this to be over??" She whipped out her iPhone and shot off a text. "You need a reality check, baby girl."

I glared at Allison. "Shut up. All you know about my marriage is what you've seen from the papers I've sent you. Where do you get off reading me like I'm on RuPaul's Drag Race?"

"Before you say something you'll regret and fire me, I have someone who needs to talk to you." The elevator doors we've been perching by opened swiftly, revealing an archer in a perfectly-tailored Armani suit. "Perfect timing."

"You said 'DEFCON 1' so I def-con came," Clint sniped at Allison. He looked at me. "How's things, babe?" I shrugged in response.

"She's waffling." Clint whirled on me.

"On the divorce?" he whispered. I shook my head.

"Not. Just the money." Clint looked at Allison, who gave him a 'See?' face.

"You can't do that. He hurt you. Badly!" I shrugged again. Clint grabbed my shoulders and violently shook me. "You cannot do this, Jenn. Don't you give up!" I narrowed my eyebrows and glared at him.

"I'm not! Why are you so freaked?" Clint and Allison looked at each other.

"There's…something you don't know yet." Allison blushed a little.

"Something we should have told you when this began…something that didn't matter until now," Clint said softly, running a hand through his hair.

"Tony's pregnant mistress was never named: not by us, not by them, not by the media…yet. But there's a story that's been written and might break any day, " Allison took a breath, "by the Times." Allison reached into her briefcase and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"This has all the names of the mistresses…the last one is the one who is having his child. I was going to keep this from you unless it was necessary, but in light of what you just told me, I'm going to show you." She handed the list to me and turned away.

I skimmed the list, not recognizing any names…until the last one.

The pregnant one.

I looked up at Allison and Clint. "I want to burn this son of a bitch." I turned and began to walk away. "Her, too!" I called over my shoulder.

I marched back into the small boardroom and slammed a palm on the table to get everyone's attention. Everyone but Tony and Head Lawyer jumped.

"Deal's are off table, assholes," I snarled. I lifted my eyes to Tony's and pointed. "I'll see your cheating ass in court." I swung on my heel and walked away.

Allison and Clint accosted me in the hallway.

"Well, what happened?" I punched the elevator button and swiftly stepped inside.

"We're going to court," I said smoothly, turning as the doors swished closed, "And I'm going to work."

\----------------------------

"Ms. Walters! I thought you wouldn't be in today!" Davis' voice squeaked into my ears.

"Not today, Davis," I snarled, stomping past him. Dena saw me coming and scrambled out of her desk.

"Ms. W, I wasn't expecting you today, what can I help with-" I got in her face.

"You are fired."

"Fired?" Dena whispered, her eyes wide. "But…but why?" I narrowed my gaze.

"You're going to play dumb, you little slut? Fine." I whirled and faced the entire law office. "Dena is fired because she not only slept with my husband, but she is pregnant with his child!" I yelled, twisting to face Dena on the last word. Her eyes welled up with tears. "So yes, Dena, you're fired. You're fired from this job and I'm blacklisting you." I leaned in and whispered, "and I'm suing you. Defamation of character. Fraternizing. Fraud. Take your pick."

Dena's lips began to quiver as she fought back tears. Alex, our wing's security guard, appeared behind me.

"We having a problem here?" he questioned.

"No. Dena will be cleaning out her desk and needs an escort from the building after her ID and clearance is deactivated," I said, eyes on Dena. Alex sighed.

"Okay. C'mon, Dena."

I watched as Dena shoved all the contents on and in her desk into a cardboard box, weeping loudly, begging. As Alex led her out, I turned and strode into my office, slamming the door, fully aware that the entire office had seen what just happened.

I leaned against my door and sighed hard.

There was no way it could get worse.

\------------------------------

And then the story broke. The Times ran the whole article: details of the divorce, Tony's affairs, a profile on Dena, what had just transpired in my office, and more, including a statement from Dena herself.

The headline was the worst: "Furious Walters Throws Stark's Pregnant Mistress Into Street, Jobless and Penniless!"

Paparazzi swarmed both Tony's and my apartments and jobs, which made using our helipads necessary…and made going anywhere an actual nightmare.

My phone was ringing off the hook.

On the third straight day of "The Divorce Of The Century" as CNN was calling it, Clint called at lunch.

"Play hooky. I've got a surprise for you." I balanced the phone between my shoulder and ear, typing.

"Can't. Too much to do."

"C'mon," Clint wheedled, "it'll be fun." I sighed.

"I really don't feel like it."

"I'll make it worth your while…"

Silence.

"Please?"

Silence.

"C'mon, Jenn, I never beg."

"…fine."

"Downstairs, ten minutes."


	7. We're Driving Cadillacs In Our Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint surprises Jenn...in more than one way.

Clint snapped the headset over my ears and gave me a thumbs-up.

"ALL GOOD?" he yelled, his voice sounding far away through the crappy diving school headset speakers. I nodded and managed a weak smile. Clint grinned and passed over my goggles, motioning for me to wait before putting them on. "HE'S GOING TO MAKE SURE IT'S OKAY TO JUMP, WE'LL PUT THEM ON, AND THEN WE'LL GO, OKAY?"

I nodded again, looking at the instructor, David. David leaned into the cockpit, yelled something to the pilot, then gave us a nod and a thumbs-up. Clint's grin widened and my heart dropped a little. I bit my lip and Clint grabbed my hand.

"BIG. BRAVE. QUEEN OF JUNGLE. NO SCREAMING," he commanded with a wink. David slid open the plane door and waved for us to come over.

"OKAY. RED IS?" he questioned, looking at me.

"EMERGENCY!" I yelled. David nodded.

"WHITE IS?"

"PRIMARY CHUTE!" Clint bounced a little as he answered, clearly ready to go. David nodded.

"YOU'RE READY. NOW YOU CAN JUMP ALONE OR TOGETHER, WHENEVER YOU'RE READY!" Clint squeezed my hand, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of my hand, which had gone white.

"DON'T COUNT, JUST PULL," I screamed, clenching my teeth and pressing my eyes closed so tightly that I saw white flashes. I felt a tug deep in my shoulder followed by a stomach-sickening free fall as Clint yanked us out of the plane.

I couldn't help it. I screamed.

"JENN. OPEN YOUR EYES."

I shook my head, body rigid as we fell.

"JENN, C'MON. IT'S NO DIFFERENT THAT OUR HALO JUMPS."

I shook my head again.

"I DON'T LIKE THOSE EITHER!" I hollered. Clint chuckled, his baritone voice resounding in my ears.

I couldn't even hear the air around us as we fell.

Clint's open hand connected with mine and suddenly we were clutching palms, me holding on for dear life.

"I WON'T LET YOU GET HURT."

"YOU SAY THAT NOW WHEN WE'RE OUT OF THE PLANE!" I yelled, forgetting where we were and opening my eyes to Clint's triumphant face.

"GOOD. NOW LOOK AROUND," he gestured. I apprehensively twisted my head left, then right, taking in our position.

Clint pointed. "STATUE OF LIBERTY. VERY SMALL OF COURSE," he finished with a cheeky wink. I tried to swat him but missed and spun a little from the centrifugal force. Clint grabbed me. "WHOA. BE CAREFUL." I gave him an incredulous look.

"WE'RE FALLING FROM A PLANE AND YOU WANT ME TO BE CAREFUL WHEN SHOVING YOU?" Clint nodded.

"YOU CAN DIE IF THE CHUTE DOESN'T OPEN, NOT BECAUSE YOU WERE TRYING TO FLIRT WITH ME."

I giggled as David joined us.

"COUNT OF THREE, PULL THE WHITE CORD," he instructed, miming pulling his own. I nodded furiously, releasing Clint to yank hard on my white cord.

My chute released immediately and the updraft slowed me violently. I shrieked and grabbed for the handles to steer myself.

David's chute had also released and he was slowing much faster than I was, floating several meters above me.

Clint's chute hadn't opened and I cried out when I noticed he was still free-falling.

"CLINT. PULL THE EMERGENCY CHUTE!" David commanded, letting go of his left handle to gesture toward the red cord, forcing himself to veer suddenly right, almost hitting me.

Clint kept falling.

"RED CORD, RED CORD, RED CORD," I yelled, watching as Clint continued to fall.

Clint made no move to pull his emergency cord; he just kept falling.

"CLINT. PULL THE CORD. CLINT!" I screamed, flailing my legs in frustration and fear.

"ONE THOUSAND FEET, CLINT, YOU NEED TO PULL A CORD!" David bellowed, his panicked eyes meeting mine.

I'm quite certain he knew he'd get sued if an Avenger died on his watch.

Clint's light chuckle came over the communicator.

"FINE. FUN SUCKERS," he said softly as he pulled his primary cord and his chute billowed open, slowing his previously certain demise. David's sigh of relief (and lawsuit avoidance) pounded into my ears, masked only slightly by how harshly my heart was beating.

I swallowed several times, realizing that my mouth was insanely dry from screaming and panting in fear. I kept my eyes on Clint, only a few meters above my own head, glaring holes into his parachute.

Thank God She-Hulk didn't have Cyclops capabilities or Clint would be falling for real that time.

"START PUMPING YOUR LEGS, JENNIFER." David said loudly, demonstrating for me. I nodded and forced my legs to move against the wind. "GET READY TO LAND: CROUCH, DO NOT STRAIGHTEN YOUR LEGS BECAUSE YOU WILL FALL AND BREAK SOMETHING." I nodded again, bending my legs repeatedly, watching as the airfield we'd taken off in rushed up at me.

I landed hard and then ran a few feet, heart racing. David slammed into the ground feet first, hopping a little, yanking at his parachute. Clint crouched to the ground, balancing on the balls of his feet, landing in a cloud of dirt and parachute. He rose up majestically, removing his goggles and grinning at me. I tugged off my headset and goggles as I strode over to him. He put his arms out for a hug and I slapped him across the face.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you?" I seethed, unstrapping the parachute from my harness. Clint rubbed his jaw.

"Did you forget that I was a circus performer? I was never in any real danger!" I rolled my eyes and pursed my lips, fighting the urge to slap him again.

"Yes, Dick, I did." Clint's eyebrows went up.

"Really? A Robin reference? You really are pissed. You hate DC."

I pressed both palms to his pecs and shoved hard, moving him back about a foot.

"Ass!" I yanked at my harness, waving off David's help, and walked towards the airport diner.

"Jenn. Jenn, come on! It was a joke! I'm fine!" Clint yelled after me, shrugging his own harness and thanking David as he jogged to catch me. He tugged my hand and pulled me to face him. "Jenn, c'mon, do you think I'd actually put myself in that danger, so stupidly, in front of you? I was trying to impress you," he said softly, palming my cheek.

To my absolute fury, I had a few tears tracking their way down my cheeks, which Clint wiped, adding to my humiliation.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," I whispered. Clint looked down at me.

"Yeah. Ditto me for you." I squirmed uncomfortably.

"I don't like feeling like you're in danger or helpless or…other stuff," I finished absurdly. Clint smoothed away a renegade tear with his thumb and bent to rest his forehead on mine.

"I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to scare you. I really was just trying to impress you." I took a heavy breath.

"Well, you didn't. You frightened me. I don't want to lose you," I murmured, closing my eyes and sliding my arms around Clint's waist. Clint pulled me in close.

"You can't lose me, Jenn. I'm invested." I blinked and looked up at him. Clint's face was serious. I tried to back away a bit, but Clint's arms tightened around me. "No. You don't get to walk away from this one," he said softly, face close to mine. He took a harsh breath and pressed his lips to my forehead, rocking me gently before pushing my head to his chest.

His heart was racing and I could feel his breath quicken the longer we stood like that.

"Jenn, I - …" Clint stopped, cleared his throat and pulled me back, looking like he wanted to run, but couldn't. 

"You don't have to - "

"No, no…please just let me get my bearings. I was going to make this a big romantic gesture but I know that Tony used to do that shit for you and I thought it'd be weird if I tried to be like Tony, fuck, why did I bring up Tony??" I peered up at Clint and waited. Clint let out a quick rush of air and inhaled deeply before continuing. "You and I have always had this…chemistry…together. I thought you and I just made a good team, had a great friendship, and right before you and John got together…I had a chance."

Clint looked at me very seriously. "I had a chance and I didn't take it and I will regret that until the day I die.But you were so happy and I was happy that you were happy…and then John died, and you turned to me for comfort, and amazingly, I had another chance." Clint looked away. "Until Tony swept in…but then all of this happened and, once again, you turned to me to comfort and support you, which I do whole-heartedly."

"Clint…" I began, but Clint held up a hand.

"I'm almost done and you can do what you like with this information. I don't want to pressure you or make things weird between us…" Clint took a huge breath, closing his eyes, before looking at me and exhaling. "Jennifer, I love you. You make me so amazingly happy. You have never made me feel ashamed or afraid to be myself and you accept all my quirks. You don't just tolerate me, you accept me. You make me feel like I can do anything and I try stupid shit like not pulling the parachute cord until it's completely necessary just to prove to myself that you actually care and…" Clint brushed a clumsy hand through his hair, sighing out of frustration. "I'm totally fucking this up, Goddammit…"

I palmed his cheek and smiled.

"You're doing fine, keep going," I said softly, eyes on his. Clint paused for a breath, leaned down, and then pulled back sharply, like he'd remembered what he'd been saying.

"Long story short…I love you. I have for a long-ass time and I've been a coward for not telling you, so before some other knight in shining adamantium or titanium-gold alloy or vibranium rides in…I want you to know that I'm in. I'm here and I'm in and if you'll have me, I'm-"

I pressed my lips to Clint's, silencing him. Clint froze before responding, moving his lips against mine gently at first and then more and more passionately. I pulled back suddenly, remembering where we were.

"-yours." Clint breathed, eyes closed, panting slightly.

"For the record, Wolverine is with Darcy and their kid…and Steve's shield is pretty much the only thing in the world with vibranium, so I'm pretty sure you're unmatched in the 'knight in shining quiver' category," I murmured, nuzzling Clint's neck.

Clint chuckled and kissed my hair. "So, does this mean if I ask you on a date, you'll say yes?" I nodded.

"If I said we should go the Avengers Charity Gala for our first date, would that seem like a copout?" I laughed.

"Nope. It's perfect," I said, kissing Clint's cheek before looking up at him, grinning.

He matched my smile and hugged me tightly. We stood, lost in our moment, for a few minutes, ignoring everything but each other.

Including the crunch of gravel from a S.H.I.E.L.D. Cadillac.

A sharp slam of a car door startled us both. Coulson removed his aviators and looked at Clint and I embracing.

"We have a situation."


	8. Falling Apart In Half Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers choose sides...and get chastised.

Apparently my marriage was costing S.H.I.E.L.D. big time.

"Do you have any idea what this divorce press is doing to the public opinion of the Avengers?" Hill railed at me, tossing the Times article at me, the contents skidding on the granite conference room table. The other Avengers sat quietly, not wanting to upset Maria.

I nodded sympathetically. "Sorry I didn't consult with our PR department when I found out my husband was cheating on me and had not one, but several mistresses, including one who happened to be not only pregnant but my assistant, Maria, but really? You think this press is NEGATIVELY affecting us? Gimme a break." Coulson cleared his throat.

"Jennifer, you might be missing the point a little. This was supposed to be cut-and-dry divorce." I held up a hand.

"Yeah, not taking advice from you at this moment, Lazarus; save it for the cellist."

Coulson mouthed "Lazarus?" to Hill and I sighed. "Dude raised from the dead in the Bible? 'Jesus wept'? Oh, come on! Even STEVE would have gotten that one!" I cried. Steve turned at the sound of his name and nodded.

"Yeah, they did have the Bible before I was frozen, Phil." Coulson blushed and muttered something about no one appreciating him being alive anymore. Hill slammed a palm on the table.

"Back to the issue at hand. We are public. figures. people. Public figures! Which means people notice us, study us, wait for us to fuck up, and we are giving them what they want!" She gestured to a screen showing a shaky camera phone video of the altercation between Clint and Tony. "The reason I called all of you together is really to talk about the gala next week." 

A collective groan sounded around the room. Hill held up a hand. "No. This is real. We cannot fuck this up. We have enough bad press surrounding Stark's extra-martial activities and the lack of support being shown to him from main Avengers." Natasha rolled her eyes and called Tony a "cock-sucker" in Russian. Hill pointed.

"'Cock-sucker' he may be, Stark is still one of us. He fights just as hard and often as we do." She leveled her gaze at me. "Which is why we cannot have any incidents at the gala, understood?" I shrugged.

"I'm not gonna be green, if that's what you're asking." Hill shook her head.

"Nope. I mean, I need everyone to pick their battles." She scrubbed her eyes over the room, stopping on Clint. "No baiting each other. If you see an issue about to happen, squash it. We already have enough bad blood and tension with the X-Men; we don't need the dissension in our ranks to deepen." She glared at us. "Got it? Drop the beefs for the evening. We are a family at Christmas, there for the kids. Everyone understand?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Get out." The Avengers scrambled to their feet and off to their respective assignments.

I strode out of the main conference room, phone in hand, scrolling through emails from Allison about final divorce proceedings and court times, when a hand yanked me into an abandoned office. Clint's lips attacked my neck as he backed me against the desk.

"You look so sexy today," he whispered, moving his mouth up to meet mine. I kissed him back hard, pushing off his suit jacket.

"Did you wear this just to toy with me, because it's working," I breathed. Clint chuckled low and unbuttoned his shirt before shrugging it to the floor and kissing me again.

"Maybe," he murmured, kissing down my neck again, finding the spot that always turned my legs to jelly. "I love knowing what it does to you." I sighed happily, scooting back on the desk and wrapping my legs around him. Clint bent me back and pushed up my dress, fingers teasing my inner thighs. "Wear something skimpy at the gala," he whispered against my skin, fingertips skating up my thighs, mouth on my neck. I moaned, squirming. "Skimpy, promise me," Clint commanded.

"Yeah, yeah, skimpy," I said softly, moving to unbuckle Clint's suit pants when a knock sounded.

"Barton, we need you," Natasha said softly against the door. Clint froze, hands still on my body.

"Can it wait?"

"You know it can't," Nat warned. Clint groaned, resting his head on my chest for a second before pushing himself off the desk and slipping his shirt back on. He quickly buttoned his shirt and left his tie loose. I couldn't resist: I grabbed the loose ends of his tie and pulled him back down to me for another kiss. Clint started to push me back onto the desk when Natasha knocked again.

"Coming, coming," Clint grumbled, thrusting his arms into his suit jacket, tie still askew and undone. I smoothed down my dress as he opened the door, winked, and left. "So what's so important that you interrupt the only time I'm seeing my girlfriend until the gala?" I heard him demand as Nat's heels clicked away.

I sighed, forcing a hand through my hair.

This gala was going to be interesting…


	9. Put On Your War Paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gala time, y'all...

I could see the slight flashes of light coming from the tinted limo windows and I tried to sneak a look at Phil's cellist friend.

Audrey flashed me a warm smile and patted my leg.

"You'll knock 'em dead, girl" she said softly. I smiled and smoothed down the blue beaded bodice of my evening gown.

Phil nodded in agreement with Audrey and stroked her hand.  
"You do look lovely, Jenn." 

I felt like vomiting, but I grinned through it.

Clint poured the rest of the champagne from his flute into mine and nodded for me to drink it.

He was on drunken lockdown - Hill's orders - but I was allowed to get plastered. I raised the flute a bit in a slight toast, downed the remaining alcohol, and shivered as it snuck through me. Audrey giggled. 

"Is Bruce a teetotaler, too?" I shook my head.

"Nah, he's had his fair share of college fun. Post-grad, not so much. He got a little green when he tried to drink." Phil's laughter encased us all - he loved hearing about the Super Soldier trials after Steve's success. 

Audrey smiled again. "I'm sure he's fun to party with, right?" I shrugged.

"You'll see tonight."

The limo came to a sudden halt and Dan, our driver for the evening, slipped silently from the front seat to open the door.

Clint squeezed my knee.

"You ready?" I inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to my stomach.

"Let's go impress New York."  
\--------------  
It was horrifyingly mundane for all those who came to see a Hawkeye-Iron Man smackdown on the red carpet, but for Avengers-X-Men relations, it was a smash.

Tony brought Dena, who was now visibly pregnant - glowing, damn her - and cradling her bump while she preened for the cameras. Tony's sunglasses protected him from the harsh glare of the paparazzi, but his face was unsmiling, his body language subdued for once.

Clint and I made a slight stir appearing together and when a reporter got too close or too personal, Clint's arm sliding around my waist distracted the group to the point of frenzy.

"How long have you been together? Jenn! Jenn, over here! Clint, kiss her on the cheek! Jenn, give him a nuzzle! You're so adorable, give us something!"

Clint leaned down to whisper in my ear at one point - something about how nice my ass looked and how he was going to snap Roger Sandam's neck for gawking too long when I got out of the limo - and you would have thought that we'd ripped off our finery and gone at it, 'Lost Girl'-style, right there on the red carpet.

I caught Tony's eye as Clint pulled away for an interview about his charity, but I was pulled away by Audrey for another photo.

After an hour of endless flashing lights and shouted questions, Phil shooed away the paps and we were finally able to go inside for dinner and the auction.

During the meal, Erik and Charles gave a long, drawn-out history of Xers and the Avengers, while Hill noted that this was the longest amount of time we had gone without an incident. Logan made a crude comment about The Other Guy not being there, hence the lack of incidents - I snarled a little, which made Darcy giggle and Logan inch his claws out - but Bruce laughed and it eased the tension a bit. Jubes signaled the beginning of dancing with some creative fireworks - an intertwined A and X - which caused Clint to lean over and say "When did we become shitty tween body spray instead of superheroes?" 

I chuckled pretty loudly at that one.

An acoustic rendition of "The Way You Look Tonight" began softly and couples rose to pair off on the dance floor.

Clint stood slowly, stretching, before extending a hand to me. "Milady?" I giggled, placing my napkin on the table.

"What, are you a Brony now?" Clint tipped an imaginary hat at me. 

"That Twight Sparkle sure is somethin', ain't she?" I rolled my eyes as Clint led me to the fake wood dance floor.

"You'd be a total Apple Jack fan." Clint chuckled, sliding an arm around my waist and placing his palm under mine. He tugged me closer and we started swaying to the soft saxophone.

"You don't have to be so rigid, you know," Clint murmured as we danced, "he can't hurt you here." I breathed in deeply.

"I know, but - " Clint shushed me.

"For once, Jenn…allow yourself to relax." I nodded and closed my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder. Clint trailed his fingers up and down my back, tracing zig zag patterns over the lace and beads. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

The song ended on a sustained note before switching to an '80s power ballad and suddenly, Natasha was next to us.

"Mind if I steal him? We have history with this song." I laughed as Clint grinned broadly.

"Enjoy your throwback," I called as Clint was drug helplessly away to the middle of the floor. Natasha began dramatically lip-syncing and performing clearly choreographed moves. Clint barked a laugh, but joined in. Other couples watched them as they danced, chuckling. I smiled and turned to wander back to my seat, but came face to face with a goateed billionaire.

Tony held out his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

"Why aren't you dancing with Dena?" I replied coldly, hands firmly at my sides.

"She isn't feeling well," he retorted. I crossed my arms.

"What, too cheap to buy your slutty pregnant girlfriend some Pepto at the CVS?" Tony glared at me.

"Listen…I'm not here to fight with you. I come bearing a peace offering. I thought we could discuss it over dancing." I sighed as Tony extended his hand towards me again.

"Shouldn't I have my lawyer present for this?" I asked, ignoring his outstretched palm. Tony grinned slyly.

"Aren't you a lawyer?" he noted, chuckling softly. I continued to stare at Tony, waiting. "Seriously, Jenn…there's no motive here. This is strictly business." I glanced down at his palm and cautiously gripped it. Tony grinned wickedly. "Atta girl…never could resist a challenge."

I narrowed my eyes as he led me to the middle of the floor. "I requested something special," he whispered as the beginning strings to "Assassin's Tango" surrounded us.

Our wedding song, the bastard.

"Do you remember this?" he asked, slipping easily back into the choreography we'd so painstakingly learned for months. I moved fluidly, my body falling back into the familiar movements, snapping to attention as Tony's hands slid over my back and waist.

"How could I forget? My feet still have scars from where you stomped on them," I retorted softly. Tony laughed gently.

"You were in love with this song. You watched this scene in 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' so many times…" I nodded curtly.

"Yeah. I remember." Tony spun me easily, like a pro, anticipating my body's rhythm, its give and take.

I hated him for it.

"The parlay?" I questioned as Tony prepared to dip me. Tony smirked.

"The plea deals are a little premature, aren't they?" I rolled my eyes.

"It's 10% of your total net worth - I think you can afford it."

"So, I give you money and we part ways amicably? Oh, come on, Jenn…I know you. There's infidelities, multiple infidelities, and a baby. How can you be so calm about this? How can you not want revenge?" I clenched my teeth hard, grinding them. Tony tugged me close to him and whispered in my ear, "You know you don't handle cheating husbands well."

I froze, momentarily thrown. He couldn't know about that…

Tony twirled me easily and yanked me back to his chest harshly. "Oh yes…I did some dirty, dirty digging into John, sweetheart," he breathed, jarring hints of scotch pervading his breath. I recoiled.

"Don't you fucking say his name," I seethed, my lips barely moving as I forced out the words. I could feel my body heating up, the anger threatening to take over, but I had promised Maria…I had promised everyone.

Tony snuck his arm back around my waist and dipped me gently as the tango ended, bowing his head towards my body. He snapped his head back up, lifted me back to my feet, and watched as Clint strode towards us.

"Stark," Clint barked.

"Barton," Tony said calmly, his arm still around my waist.

"Romanoff," Nat announced, stepping between Clint and Tony. "You promised," she said, looking from Tony to Clint. Tony lifted his hands from my waist and backed away with the palms facing Natasha.

"I'm being good, Widow. Cap's honor," he said smugly. Nat glared at him. "I just wanted to let Jennifer know that her original defense of a grieving war widow has been shot down," his eyes met mine, "just like her last husband." Clint let out a caveman-like grunt of anger and moved swiftly towards Tony, locking up immediately with Nat, who had his arms in what looked like a painful hold.

"Clint, no. Let it go," Nat whispered in Russian.

"The cocksucker doesn't know who he's dealing with," Clint growled back. Tony raised an eyebrow and motioned for Clint to go on.

"Oh, by all means," he chuckled, narrowing his eyes at Clint, "enlighten me. I want to see what the great Clint Barton can do." Natasha kept one hand on Clint's wrist in a stance that was clearly meant to break it if he moved any closer to Tony and the other pressed firmly against his chest.

A throat cleared behind us as Tony and Clint goaded each other with their eyes. Nat and I turned to Director Hill and, after a tense moment, so did Clint and Tony.

"Was it not crystal clear that this," Maria motioned to Tony and Clint's defensive body language, "was not to happen?"

"I was simply trying to have a conversa-" Hill held up her finger at Tony.

"Lying does not make things easier right now, Stark. You already have a suspension under your belt and your high-profile divorce proceedings dragging us all through the mud. You're not exactly on my good side, well, ever, so don't make it worse by lying." Tony shrugged, a teenager being scolded by a parent.

"Sorry, Hill," he glanced at Clint, "I like to tease." Hill rolled her eyes.

"Sure, sure - how about you get out of here?" Tony shrugged and again, placed his hands in the air.

"Got it. No longer welcome tonight. I'll deal." Tony began to walk towards Dena, who did look a bit paler than usual, and Clint visibly relaxed. Natasha released him and Hill let out a soft breath, one I'm sure none of us were meant to hear.

"Good. That's done; get back to the party," Hill commanded, rolling her shoulders before walking away. Natasha turned to me, her face disapproving.

"You can't let him get to -"

"He knows about John's infidelity." I whispered, shaking my head to clear it. Nat gasped.

"But we buried that. All of us." I nodded.

"And he knows." Clint tugged at my arm.

"We can deal with that on Monday, for now…let's get you home." I pursed my lips, but allowed Clint to toss his suit jacket over my shoulders and lead me out to a cab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A. I love that song and that movie. Judge not lest...how the rest of that goes.
> 
> B. It was super hard not to have them fight...my fingers were itching for it.


End file.
